


Contract Negotiations: Rebuttal

by deinvati



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Remix, or "mousie give me the baton and I will write it my damn self"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinvati/pseuds/deinvati
Summary: “Arthur,” he growls, fingers on his jaw unyielding. “Why are you here, Arthur?”“You asked me to make you come,” Arthur says coyly, his voice rough.“No,” Saito says, and Arthur shivers.
Relationships: Arthur/Saito (Inception)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	Contract Negotiations: Rebuttal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storm_of_sharp_things](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Contract Negotiations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27080080) by [IAmANonnieMouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse). 



> Happy Birthday, my love! Here's to being satisfied.
> 
> :cheers:
> 
> My thanks to Mousie for leaving me truly inspired. If you haven't read hers yet, YOU DEFINITELY SHOULD.

Saito wraps a hand around Arthur's neck, just tight enough that Arthur can't possibly ignore it. "Why are you here, Arthur?"

Arthur's eyelids flutter. "You told me to come."

"And if I told you to kneel for me?" Saito asks, words soft as silk.

Arthur locks eyes, and slowly, carefully falls to his knees. Saito's hand is an anchor at his throat, following him all the way down.

"Good," Saito says, and Arthur trembles. He could become addicted to that word, and the things it does to him. Saito steps closer, placing a foot between Arthur's knees, and murmurs, "Now, what shall we do next?"

Arthur's eyes drop closed, unable to keep looking. " _Saito_ ," he breathes.

"Hmm, you _have_ been practicing."

Arthur licks his lips in anticipation, listening to the whisper of fabric as Saito moves, smelling his faint aftershave. Arthur can _feel_ him there, his whole body, through the hand against his throat.

And then Saito places a thumb on Arthur's bottom lip.

He sucks in a breath. Then gently, slowly, touches it with the tip of his tongue.

Saito hooks his thumb over Arthur's bottom teeth with a small growl and pulls him forward.

Arthur's eyes flutter open because _yes._ Saito is unzipping with his left hand and Arthur wants to help, but he hasn't been told to do anything but kneel. He places his hands carefully on Saito's thighs, for balance.

"Open your mouth, Arthur," Saito says evenly. He's managing the zipper just fine on his own.

He's not fully hard yet, and Arthur actually prefers learning a new person this way. He tries to convey his approval in his eyes as he surges forward, eager, hungry.

"Ah, ah," Saito corrects with a firm hand. "Slowly."

Arthur apologizes with his eyes. "Yes, sir."

It just slipped out, but the effect is instantaneous. Saito's pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare, and Arthur's body responds in kind. He holds Saito's smoky gaze and opens his lips again. Saito's thumb hooks firmly over his teeth, but Arthur _wants._

Saito is uncut, and Arthur holds him on the tip of his tongue, breathing. Saito had said to go slow and he doesn't rush him, letting him taste and try to calm down.

God, Arthur loves this. Saito smells amazing, and he slips further into Arthur's mouth when he opens to better scent him. It's good. So good.

"So good."

Arthur's eyes squeeze shut and his brow furrows in his attempt not to shudder. Slow, purposeful suction applied to the growing length in the back of his throat, pressing his nose to carefully groomed hair until his eyes start to water.

He swallows and backs off, looking up to see that yes, Saito's tie has been loosened, and a slight sheen of sweat gives away that he is just as affected by this as Arthur is.

He's fully aroused now, and Arthur takes a look at what he's working with. Long and slender, Arthur leans in to give tiny kitten licks to the tip. Then wider, stronger, ice cream cone licks, and Saito sighs. It's a soft sound, almost imperceptible, but Arthur thinks, " _Ice cream. Yes."_

He moves to run his lips up the length, cataloging what Saito likes by the small sounds he makes. Arthur palms up the front of Saito's dress pants, admiring the thighs beneath, the way his tailoring fits him like a glove. He ducks down to lick at the base, looking up through his lashes—

And Saito's phone buzzes.

Arthur freezes, unsure, but Saito places one hand on the back of his neck, and with the other, withdraws the phone.

"Yes?" is all he says for a while, and Arthur curves his tongue around him with a smile. By the time Saito replies in rapid-fire Japanese, Arthur is lost in the feel of him again, the wet slide of flesh on flesh, the material under his hands as he gropes.

He desperately wants to touch himself. The press against his slacks is uncomfortable, but he redirects and digs his fingers into the muscles in the back of Saito's thighs instead.

Saito's knees bend and he hits the back of Arthur's throat. He pulls back immediately, but Arthur hears the hitch in his breath, the pause in his conversation, and he thinks, " _Yes."_

He follows him and does it again. The hand which had been gently curving around the back of his skull grasps Arthur's jaw firmly. Holding him still, Saito gives him a look of reproach.

Arthur looks down, contrite, hoping Saito won't make him stop. But Saito just holds him still and begins a slow rock of his hips, easing himself just barely in and out of Arthur's mouth. Arthur makes his tongue wide and flat, covering his bottom teeth, softening his throat. Ice cream.

Saito doesn't take the bait right away. He only allows Arthur the tip, painting his lips, not letting him move his head.

Arthur compensates by letting his hands wander. Soft touches and strokes lead to Arthur's slim fingers ghosting closer and closer to his goal.

With a few sharp words, Saito ends his phone call and pulls free of Arthur's mouth. Calmly he returns the phone to his inner jacket pocket. There is a string of saliva connecting them.

"Arthur," he growls, fingers on his jaw unyielding. "Why are you here, Arthur?"

"You asked me to make you come," Arthur says coyly, his voice rough.

"No," Saito says, and Arthur shivers.

He tucks himself away. "Stand up, Arthur."

For one brief, terrifying moment, Arthur thinks he fucked it up. " _No,"_ he wants to beg, " _let me try again. I can be better. I can be good."_

Then Saito drags over a chair.

Arthur stands carefully and waits, hoping.

Saito doesn't sit in the chair. He doesn't tell Arthur to sit. What he does is walk a circle around Arthur, appraising.

With gentle, efficient, and respectful fingers, Saito begins to disrobe him.

With each loosened button, Arthur breathes a little easier.

His tie. His vest. His belt and shoes. His cufflinks and watch. His socks. Each item carefully laid out on the nearby dresser. Then Saito walks around him again.

When he allows himself to touch, it is to the waistband of Arthur's dress slacks, just over his hip. Saito trails a strong square finger over the area normally covered by his belt and then, ever so slightly, underneath it.

Arthur holds his breath.

Saito draws even closer. He traces the inside of his waistband around to the front, and with a quick flick, unbuttons his pants. The zip starts to slide down almost immediately on its own, helped by the pressure in his briefs.

He thinks Saito will touch him now. He _hopes_ Saito will touch him now. But Saito's hands come back to his throat, undoing the first two buttons and angling Arthur's jaw away from him.

He breathes in the scent of Arthur's skin at his neck. "Good," he rumbles, his voice low, and Arthur can't stop the shiver that uncoils from his belly. He wants to arch into him, display himself, offer himself up. His breath catches in his throat and Saito drags one finger down it to hook on the next button.

" _Rip it off,"_ Arthur thinks, although he doesn't mean it.

Saito does not. He undoes three more and opens it to reveal his undershirt beneath it. Then he slides it off Arthur's shoulders.

He walks behind Arthur and pauses, lips so close to Arthur's skin he can feel Saito's breath on him. Then he thinks he does feel them. Then a hint of teeth.

"You were the kid who saved their wrapping paper, weren't you?" Arthur asked, his voice wrecked.

Saito's lips are curled when he comes back around. "No, Arthur. I care nothing for the paper. It is the _unwrapping_ I enjoy." With that, he pulls the shirt free from Arthur's trousers and they tumble to the floor.

Arthur has never wanted to be touched more than he does right now. He thinks he might lose his mind. He might cry. He would beg. He—

Saito's hand cups him and a strangled cry escapes his throat. Saito drags his thumb over the head, through the wet spot he's leaked onto his hip, and Arthur bucks involuntarily.

"God, please," Arthur whispers, not sure what he's asking for. Stop. Don't stop. Too much and not enough. He is raw and electrified.

Saito removes the rest of his clothes. They're placed neatly on the dresser and it's a bit of a blur, except for when Saito runs his finger around the waistband of his underwear, like he did before, and then works them down over his hips.

He springs free and the cool air against his fevered skin makes him gasp. His hands clench and unclench at his sides and he cannot do this. This is not 0 to 60 right out of the gate. This is a space launch. He was not prepared. It has been too long.

"Arthur," Saito says, and Arthur realizes it isn't the first time he's said it. "Stand up, please."

He blinks and looks down, sure he was already standing. Then Saito indicates the chair.

He cocks his head, not sure he understands what Saito has in mind, but Saito just waits, not asking again, waiting to see if Arthur will or won't stand on the chair.

Arthur finally approaches it and climbs on it, turning to face Saito and using his outstretched hand for balance.

"Very good, Arthur. _Very_ good."

Arthur glows. He's naked, standing on a wooden chair in front of a fully dressed Saito, and he can't remember a time when he felt quite so exposed. But Saito's words blanket him, pet him, build a fire in him.

Saito steps close, using his hands liberally to touch Arthur's skin, rest his forehead on Arthur's belly, run Arthur's fingers across his lips. Then he places Arthur's hand on his shoulder.

"Hold on to me."

Arthur nods.

Saito touches him firmly behind his right knee. "Lift your leg."

Arthur does, and Saito drapes it over his other shoulder.

The pieces click into place in Arthur's mind. He is completely open for Saito now, available to his mouth, his hands, his eyes. Arthur is balanced but steady and supported, and Saito has the world at his feet.

He touches the back of Arthur's thighs, gently. "I'm going to fuck you, Arthur."

The word sounds stark and racy coming out of his mouth.

Arthur nods quickly.

"I'm going to open you up, make you ready for me. I would prefer it if you do not come until I am inside you."

Not 'you will not.' Not 'I forbid it.' Just that he would prefer. Clearly, he can tell Arthur is not as prepared for this as he is.

But Arthur is _very_ interested in what Saito prefers. He nods again and Saito produces a small vial of lube. It smells like something Arthur can't quite place, and when he touches Arthur, it's already warm.

He starts by touching him everywhere, getting Arthur used to his hands, his movement, before adding in an occasional stroke over his entrance. He adds more lube before adding pressure, and Arthur appreciates him being careful, but he is not a blushing virgin. He knows how this works. And he is very worked up. He leans into Saito's touch, encouraging him with looks and sighed words, and Saito listens. Soon Arthur is bracing his forearms on Saito's shoulders, panting into his upturned face, and hanging off two of his fingers, crooked so very nicely inside him.

Saito starts to work in a third and Arthur groans out, "No, now. Please."

Saito hesitates, but Arthur catches his breath and meets his eyes. "I like it like this. Like this, okay?"

Saito considers, and when he nods and withdraws his fingers, Arthur thanks him with a kiss.

It's their first, he realizes a split-second after. Saito jerks as if startled, then hauls Arthur closer, kissing him again. Arthur wants to rut against him, rub himself on that expensive suit jacket he's still wearing, make a mess of him. But Saito pulls away, decisively.

"Come with me."

He helps Arthur down on legs which have become wobbly and leads him over to the bed. He flips back the duvet and lays Arthur down on sheets with an unimaginable thread count, and Arthur stretches out on his back, luxuriating in the feel of the cool crispness against his heated skin.

Saito watches him for a moment, eyes hooded, then with a steady hand, guides Arthur’s left knee up and over to the right side of the bed.

"Like this," Saito says. It's not a question, but Arthur nods anyway. He's displayed again, and he puts his arms up, hoping Saito will pin him down.

Saito unzips himself again and applies lube with two strong strokes. Arthur licks his lips. Aside from his loosened tie, Saito's suit is unaffected. The look on his face says Saito is anything but.

Saito descends on Arthur, hands on his flank, lining himself up.

That first push makes Arthur's jaw drop open and his eyes roll back. Saito doesn't stop until he's fully seated, flush against him, and Arthur thinks, " _Yes, god, yes."_ He feels so full, the stretch he insisted on bringing him back from the edge, making him _feel_ it.

He wants it all and it wants it _right now._ Saito starts a slow roll of his body, pulling out only a few inches before sliding right back home. Arthur's voice is caught high in the back of his throat, getting pushed out a little each time.

It feels so incredible. It feels _amazing_ , but Saito is so far away. He hasn't pinned Arthur down, he's pulled back, watching where their bodies meet, but Arthur has tasted his lips and wants them on him again. He reaches up a hand.

Saito looks at him, eyebrows raised, but comes down on all fours, still buried safely inside him. He nuzzles Arthur's hand, but Arthur encourages him further, straining for him, brushing his fingers over the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Arthur pulls his confused face into a kiss, lips searing his own, and Saito rolls into him. The angle pushes a moan out of Arthur's mouth, and Saito delves in, capturing his tongue, teasing him into surrendering completely to his hands, his mouth, his whole body.

Saito picks up the pace and Arthur isn't going to last long. He's not touching himself, but the friction, the rhythm of their bodies, Saito's weight on him… yeah, he's definitely not going to last long. He pants this at Saito, who doesn't respond, but speeds up slightly anyway. Things start to tumble out of Arthur's mouth, pleas and curses and sounds he would be embarrassed about if he could string enough thoughts together.

Saito's fingers circle Arthur's wrists and press them into the mattress, and Arthur comes undone.

He's arching and pleading and shaking apart at the seams, and Saito's steady pace drags it on and on, until he is a bundle of raw nerves, spent and dazed.

Saito's mouth is on his throat, lips and teeth and hot, panting breaths as he finds his release, and Arthur wants him to _mark_ him. "Bite me, sir?" he breathes, eyes unseeing through the swirl of pleasure.

The bloom of pain on his neck is combined with Saito's groan of satisfaction, and Arthur moans along with him.

The heavy press of Saito's body into his, the warm weight of him, complete and slaked, is sending Arthur into a cocoon of happiness.

"So good, Arthur," Saito breathes. "So very good."

Arthur whines, high and happy, a smile on his face. He closes his eyes, wanting to hold onto this feeling for as long as he can.

When Saito rises, Arthur keeps them closed, clutching at the last few minutes. Saito doesn't make him move, so he breathes and coasts. It's beautiful.

There's a rustle of fabric and then Saito's hands are on him again, this time with a warm cloth between his legs, cleaning him up, and then they're gone again. And still, Saito lets him float.

He opens his eyes when he feels warm skin, so much skin, slide in next to him.

Saito, naked and gorgeous, is climbing into the bed with him, pulling the duvet over them both.

"Sleep, Arthur," he says, pulling Arthur into his warmth.

Arthur hums and closes his eyes. " _Domo arigato,"_ he whispers.

Saito huffs a quiet laugh and runs a hand through Arthur's hair. "Sleep."


End file.
